


Disastrous

by shinymogwai



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair (Dragon Age) is a Good Friend, Brief Leliana (Dragon Age), Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Warden talking about their problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinymogwai/pseuds/shinymogwai
Summary: "There were rapists. And we got the wrong cake. Disastrous."Alistair requests that the Warden elaborate on that particular comment.





	

 

“There were rapists,” Liane chirped, and Alistair almost missed the pained edge to her voice. “And we got the wrong cake. Disastrous.”

The words hit him like a punch, deep in his stomach, right where his innards sat. He could only stare at the little elf, at the woman he loved-- for he did love her, he’d been quite sure of that for a while now. He stammered some sort of response, and Liane smiled tightly to him, and he wanted to ask her more, but-- no, they had other things to do. People to kill, people to save-- the usual.

He didn’t get the chance to talk to her again until evening, when they’d all returned to the arl’s estate. She was in her rooms, Leliana seated beside her, the two of them pressed hip-to-hip as Liane cleaned one of her long knives. They looked up in unison as he entered. Liane broke into a wide, pleased grin-- the kind she often found herself wearing whenever Alistair entered a room. Leliana merely quirked a brow at him.

“Er--” Alistair bumbled. Damn, he was always  _ bumbling _ like this when it counted. “Sorry, I can-- come back later?”

“Oh, no,” Liane shook her head. “Come in, we were just talking about--”

_ “I _ was just leaving.” Leliana interjected, and rose from her seat on the bed. “We will talk later, dear.” She brushed a hand against Liane’s shoulder, offering a small, knowing smile in response to Liane’s confusion.

The bard shot Alistair a glance as she passed him, the one that was too knowing for Alistair to be wholly comfortable with. The one that said “be careful.”

She shut the door behind them with a gentle thud.

And then it was just the two of them. Liane seated on the bed, and Alistair standing in the middle of the room like a fool, unsure of what to do with himself. Not an unfamiliar situation, in and of itself.

“Soo, ah…” He wet his lips, mind racing for how he could possibly start this undoubtedly horrible conversation. “How about that… sky, today?”  _ What in the Maker’s name was he saying? _

Liane’s lips quirked up into an amused smile, and something in Alistair’s heart leapt. “Yes,” She nodded faintly in agreement, rising from her seat and crossing to the desk. “Very blue, had a sun in it and all. Most impressive.”

Alistair let out a groan, and reached up to rake a hand through his hair. “Look, Liane, I-- can we-- talk? About what you said earlier, in the alienage?”

Liane’s movement paused for a fraction of a second, her muscles tensing. “I…” She started slowly, setting her knife down on the desk with a quiet clunk of metal against wood. “I said a lot of things in the alienage today.”

“You know what I mean.” Alistair protested. “About your-- er-- wedding.”

For a moment, Liane was very quiet. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she’d felt a chill. “Must we..?” She asked, barely above a whisper, desperately clinging to her usual tone of levity. “I already told you the highlights…”

“I don’t  _ want _ the  _ highlights!”  _ Alistair didn’t mean for the words  to come out as loud or as sharp as they did. He checked himself, brought his volume down again, tried to make his voice soft. “I just… Think we should… talk.” The last word came out like air from a deflating bladder. He wasn’t sure Liane would answer, at first. He was quickly starting to regret coming here, to regret even thinking of asking these questions.

But then Liane turned, her smile much too small, much too sad. “Sit down.” She said  softly, and crossed to the bed. Alistair went to join her, and for a time they sat in silence, her weight leaned up against his arm. Alistair had always been aware of his lover’s petite stature, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing her look so…  _ small. _

Liane licked her lips, took a deep breath, and began. “My cousin hit the arl’s son in the back of the head with a bottle.” She flashed a quick, not-quite-forced grin to Alistair. “He came in with his cronies, blustering about, making--  _ remarks _ at the women. Shems do it all the time, they want to remind us of how little we can do to stop them. Mostly they’re just empty threats. But sometimes--” Her smile vanished, and she shook her head. “We were in no mood for his nonsense, not on that day. It was supposed to be a  _ happy _ day. So Shianni-- you met Shianni, the one with the red hair,” The spitfire who had eyed Alistair and the other humans in the party with such suspicion, who had broken into the warmest of grins when she saw Liane, “She grabbed a bottle from a table and clonked the bastard in the back of the head. Knocked him out cold. It was--” A tiny chuckle escaped Liane’s lips, and she shook her head in memory of her cousin’s recklessness.

“We didn’t even think to worry about it. Surely Vaughan wouldn’t kick up too much of a fuss. He wouldn’t want to admit that he was bested by an elven woman, of all people. So the day went on. It was going… good, I think. People gave gifts. I was wearing a pretty dress. My-- my groom, Nelaros, was turning out to be a pleasant surprise.” Liane thumbed at the worn ring on her finger, the one she had worn since before Alistair had met her. How had he never noticed before? Never asked after it before? “Even Soris-- we were both getting married that day, it’s cheaper to do these things in groups-- even Soris seemed to be getting along alright with his bride. So we all stood up together, said our vows, and then…”

A shadow passed over Liane’s eyes, and her hands balled into fists, though Alistair wasn’t sure she had even noticed. “And then Vaughan came back, with more friends this time. He said--” She spat the words out like they were poison, “He said he was ‘having a party,’ and that they needed ‘entertainment.’ They rounded up the women, people tried to stop them, but there was nothing anyone could--” The woman swallowed thickly. “One of them hit me. I fell and cracked my skull on the ground. Don’t remember much after that. I woke up in a storeroom with the other women. When the Vaughan’s men came to fetch us, Nola mouthed off to them, and they…” She snapped her mouth shut against a sob. Alistair reached out and wrapped an arm around her slim shoulders. She sagged against him.

“They took the others and left me with a couple of guards. I’ve got something of a--” A wry smile flashed across her lips, “ _ Reputation _ back home. My mother taught me to fight when I was young. I wasn’t afraid to use that training against stupid shems who thought to get handsy with me. I guess Vaughan wanted to make sure I didn’t have too much fight left before he came near me...”

Alistair felt his grip on Liane’s shoulder tighten. “Did they..?” Maker, he couldn’t even finish the thought. Not to Liane. That  _ couldn’t _ have happened to Liane.

“No.” She shook her head, and Alistair felt something awful unclench inside of him, even though he had no right to his relief. “They got-- close, but no. Soris came bursting in, threw me a sword, and… Well.” Liane flashed her teeth in something that wasn’t really a smile. “Soris came to rescue me, you see. Him and Nelaros. Everyone else was too scared, but they-- Duncan had passed through earlier, and they found him, and he gave them weapons, and they stormed the manor like heroes out of a story.” Alistair felt his brows rising at the tale. It wasn’t that he was  _ surprised _ that Duncan would do such a thing, but he’d had no idea of the extent of his mentor’s involvement. Something sad and so, so  _ grateful _ panged in Alistair’s chest at the man’s memory. If he hadn’t been there, hadn’t given the two men the weapons they needed, then--

No. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t think about that.

Liane had gotten a faraway sort of look in her eyes. “Soris, I would have expected. We’d been friends since we were children, and we’re  _ family, _ but Nelaros-- he didn’t have to come. He didn’t owe me anything, even if we were married. We’d known each other a few hours, that’s all. He could have just sat at home and waited. Maybe prayed that Vaughan wouldn’t be too rough, that he’d bring me home when he was done. But instead-- he broke into a damn  _ manor _ for me. It was terribly romantic.”

And something inside of Liane’s eyes--  _ closed. _ “And they killed him for it. Cut him open ear-to-ear. I never even got to thank him…” She stared down at the ring on her finger, small and scratched and worn, but the metal still shining in the candlelight. Alistair felt a pang of-- Maker,  _ jealousy? _ He shoved the feeling down, and instead latched onto gratitude towards the man who had barely known Liane, but had given his life to save her.

“They didn’t even hesitate when they did it.” Liane whispered, her fingers curling tightly into fists. “So I-- I didn’t either. Soris and I, we cut them all down. All of them. Every stupid shem who tried to stop us, until we got to Vaughan’s chambers, and then…” Throughout the awful tale, Liane had had bouts of trembling, here and there. But now she shook almost violently, and her jaw went tight, and her eyes brimmed with tears of grief or rage or both.

“I should have been faster.” She hissed, like the words themselves tasted bitter. “I should have fought harder when they first came to the alienage, or-- or made some sort of deal with Vaughan to take me first, or  _ something--” _

_ “No.” _ Alistair’s response burbled up from deep in his gut, and he turned Liane to face him, both hands tight on her shoulders because he wasn’t sure he was even capable of letting go. He looked into those big, pretty eyes of hers and something in the back of his throat went tight. “Don’t-- don’t  _ say  _ things like that. It  _ wasn’t _ your fault. Whatever they did, it  _ wasn’t--” _ His voice cracked, and he felt so  _ weak. _

Liane’s expression crumpled. “I still  _ see _ them, Alistair.” She hiccupped, still shaking. “All of them gathered around Shianni, and her on the floor, and Vaughan just  _ smiling _ and…” Alistair pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her shoulder and holding her as tight as he could. He hadn’t realized until then that he was shaking too.

For a while, Liane just clung to him, trembling and not making a sound, tears soaking into the front of Alistair’s shirt.  _ Maker, _ so many things made a horrible kind of  _ sense _ now. For weeks after their first meeting, Liane had smiled and joked and laughed with him, but she’d always kept a slight distance from him, too. Flinched a little when he spoke too loud or moved too fast. Daveth, one of the potential Warden recruits, had flirted with her, just a little, like he flirted with all pretty women, and Liane’s voice always seemed so tight when she responded. Alistair had just chalked it up to the skittishness that many elves had around humans-- he knew that they were often treated poorly, after all, and Liane had warmed up to him in time. He hadn’t even  _ thought _ about it.

“He still tried to talk his way out of it, even after what he’d done.” Liane muttered, her voice muffled by Alistair’s shirt. She pulled away, just slightly, not out of his arms, just enough that she could look at him. “I think he expected it to  _ work. _ Like I’d just walk away in exchange for a purse full of coins. Like it didn’t even  _ matter. _ And I-- I guess it didn’t, not to him…” She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath, and then leaned her forehead into the hollow of Alistair’s throat. “I killed them all. It wasn’t quick.”

_ Good, _ said a tiny, hateful voice in the back of Alistair’s mind, a voice he usually ignored or felt a twinge of guilt in response to. Not this time.

“He said that killing him would bring trouble.” Liane mumbled. “He was right. The city guard came after us, and Duncan stepped in and conscripted me before I could be arrested, and. Well. You know the rest.” She looked up at him again and smiled weakly. “He-- he really was a good man, Duncan. I resented him a little, you know, for taking me away. For taking advantage of the situation. But he was… kind about it all, on the way to Ostagar. Made sure I was eating. Didn’t begrudge me the nightmares. Better than I expected from a human, especially after all that.”

He wished she could have known Duncan longer. He wished that he had gone along on the trip to Denerim. Maybe he could have helped her, spared her the pain of these memories. Maybe--

He didn’t suppose that mattered now. Not the “what ifs” and “maybes.” Not the roiling disgust he felt for his own people. What mattered was holding Liane and never letting go. What mattered was that she was  _ here _ and  _ safe _ and no monster of a man could hurt her anymore.

What mattered was making sure that no one could waltz into the alienage and do anything like that, ever again.


End file.
